


In other words: Darling, Kiss Me

by coolangelsthesis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, PDA, noiz's family issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba is adamant against PDA, Noiz faces some family issues, and the two, always, somehow know how to cheer each other up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In other words: Darling, Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> waaaaaaah okay, this ended up being a LOT longer than i expected it to be. i just thought about this and expected to write just a little 500 word blurb. but nope. yep. WELL this is my first REAL contribution to the dMMd fandom so i hope it's not terrible.
> 
> yeah, i know. the title is exceptionally lame and stupid. i know.
> 
> not beta'd, sorry

Noiz knew how much Aoba _loathed_ public displays of affection. He knew how much it unsettled him and made furious red flush along the apples of his cheeks, and how we would stammer and gawk and hit Noiz’s upper arm, saying how _you don’t do that in public, Noiz, what if people were looking I can’t believe you, you are such a child_.

And for those reasons, he continued to still do it.

When they needed to run quick trips to the supermarket Noiz would creep up behind Aoba without a word, wind his arms around his waist—slim build practically begging for Noiz to embrace in the tight-knit suits Noiz bought tailored for him – and press a kiss to his exposed neck. Aoba would retort by smacking him upside the head with the bag of carrots he was selecting. The pain stung for longer than Aoba always intended, but Noiz didn’t mind. Having the skin on his forehead tingle to the touch made him happy.

When Noiz and Aoba were on crowded public transportation after a long, exhaustive day at work, Noiz would groan and complain and lean over to rest his head on Aoba’s shoulder, letting his eyelids flutter shut for a few brief moments before Aoba brushed him away. Once or twice on busy subways Aoba’s face flushed such an embarrassed shade of red he would angrily storm away to the opposite side of the bus, shooting furtive glances in Noiz’s direction the entire duration of the ride.

At work wasn’t any different, either. With Noiz being how Noiz was, people began speculating that this foreign, blue haired boy that was the boss’ personal secretary was nothing more than a fetish toy meant to lug around the office like a prized possession. Noiz popping out of his office between meetings to idly chat with Aoba, then leaving with a long, arduous kiss on the mouth didn’t stop the rumors from spreading, either.

Through all of these, minutes later Aoba would lose most of his apparent anger and in the confines of solitude Noiz would console his boyfriend, telling him that nobody really cared, anyway. And if they did, fuck them. Who needed them anyway?

After time Noiz stopped doing these actions are frequently as when they first started living in Germany, for fear one day he would piss Aoba off so bad he would book the next available flight back to Japan. Thankfully, it never got to that point, but Aoba joked about it once, and from that moment he stopped. Though sometimes he couldn’t help it; his boyfriend would pull the most absurd and adorable faces when shopping, scrutinizing displays or what to buy.

Today was different, however.

Today Noiz and Aoba were sitting in silence in the midst of an hour long train ride back to Munich from Noiz’s family’s house. As soon as they boarded their cart, Noiz rummaged through Aoba’s bag, pulled out his bubblegum pink headphones and put them on his head. With a gentle touch, he then grabbed Aoba’s wrist and tinkered with his Coil until loud, thumping electronic music – the only thing their music tastes were compatible through – was coming through the speakers, blocking the world outside Noiz’s own bubble and leaned back in his seat with a contemplative scowl. He did all this wordlessly, which wasn’t uncanny for him, but Aoba was accustomed to seeing Noiz open up for him more, to give him a glimpse inside with light laughter and smirks and brief, coquette touches out of the wary eyes of suspecting civilians. But now Noiz stared ahead, brows knit together, mouth puckered up in a thin line.

It was clear to see that there was still no resolve between Noiz and his parents. At the humor of his younger brother, Noiz coaxed Aoba to accompany him with a reluctant visit to his parent’s. He remembered the last time he was there, where he stumbled over his German and made a fool of himself.

He also remembered asking to see the room where Noiz had been cooped up for several years. With a look of anguish, Noiz obliged.

Aoba didn’t need to even open the door before he began to well up; in the wooden door were notches where Noiz’s tiny fists beat into the wood; he must have pounded at it so hard the wood on the other side began to bend, distort. Before he could stop himself he flung his arms around Noiz’s neck, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, and reminded him that he would never, ever, be alone like that again. Noiz reciprocated, holding Aoba close in order to pay no attention to the door before them, and the years of isolation cooped up in there.

Noiz’s brother had accidentally stumbled in on their intimate embrace. He promised not to tell their parents, leaving with nothing more than a satisfied grin that Aoba swore he could tell was beaming pride that his brother was finally, finally happy.

So when Noiz’s brother, who always had a tendency to speak before thinking, casually mentioned mid-conversation that Noiz had a boyfriend, the remark was pinpointed by Noiz’s mother dropping her silverware on fine china.

Aoba was struggling as it was to keep attuned to the foreign German of their complacent conversation, so when Noiz and his father began spitting phrases – which Aoba had barely any semblance to their meaning -- at one another with bitter cadence, he knew even without knowing what they were saying all the careful months Noiz had been keeping the peace were ruined.

Quietly Noiz excused himself before his voice cracked with anger. He was followed in tune by his father, then his mother, then his brother – who had a look of pure regret – leaving Aoba all alone, left to sit in uncomfortable silence as he heard his boyfriend ruled up with white-hot anger – genuine anger, something he hadn’t heard for a long time.

After a few minutes Noiz re-emerged with both Aoba’s and his own winter coat. His eyes were glassy as though holding in tears. Gently he took Aoba’s hand and muttered a quiet “We’re leaving,” as he slipped Aoba’s coat on for him.

Instead of taking the limo reserved for the two of them waiting for them in the front of the house, they decided instead to walk to the train station. In the cool winter air their air escaped their lips in sweet, serendipitous wisps as they ambled away from the menacing, towering mansion behind them.

“So….” Aoba began timidly, peering up to Noiz. He heaved his chest up with a sigh, the question he was dying to know the answer to heavy on his tongue. “What—”  
“Frederick told them by accident,” Noiz replied with an offhanded sigh, trying to feign indifference. “They were furious, of course, saying that I’ll be a shame to the business if I keep dating a man.”  
“Oh.”  
A pause.  
“I-I'm sorry, Noiz… do they know that I’m your boyfriend?”  
“… They never said for certain, but I’m pretty sure they know. I think they were trying to fool themselves into thinking you were just a friend.” Noiz snorted here, rubbing his nose – which had grown a cherry red with the cold. “Which is bullshit. They know I don’t make _friends_.”  
“Come on Noiz,” Aoba mewled softly, gripping Noiz’s hand tighter. “Of course you do. I’m your friend, right?”  
Noiz glared at him.  
“I’m pretty certain most ‘friends’ don’t live together and I’m _pretty_ certain ‘friends’ don’t fuck each other every night.”  
If it wasn’t so bitterly cold outside, which in return making his cheeks already flushed, a blush would have formed on Aoba’s cheeks. Instead he gawked for a moment and stammered. That made the fainted smirk appear on Noiz’s lips before evaporating again. He clicked his tongue.  
“… Pervert. You make a point. But… what about Clear? Or Koujaku? Mizuki? They’re your friends, right?”  
“… I guess. But only because they were your friends first.”  
“Still friends though, right?”  
“... Whatever, I guess.”

And that was that. They walked the remainder of the time in complete silence. He knew Noiz wasn’t angry at him, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for causing this entire turmoil to occur.

  
*  


It had been an upwards of twenty minutes as Aoba stared at Noiz, trying haplessly what he could do to console him. He had never seen Noiz this upset; usually when something bothered him he could shrug it off and pretend like it never happened… but why this? Why was he lingering on this one particular for so long like the acrid stench of cigarettes that refuses to leave the skin? Was it because he had worked so diligently to be seen as someone respectful in the eyes of his parents? Or… was it because it was about Aoba? Aoba’s heart panged at that.

Occasionally Noiz’s gaze would flick away from whatever point in time and space he was fixated on to look at Aoba out of the corner of his eye. His gaze was bitter, but whenever he looked to Aoba a certain warmth reserved for Aoba filled him to the brim, making the misanthropy and anger falter if just for a brief moment. Opposite of them on the train cart was a mother alone with her three kids; one child was asleep, nestled inside the crook of her arm. The other two sat beside her, both invested deeply in whatever sort of movie was being projected in front of them from their mother’s Coil.

Behind them an elderly man sat, flipping idly through a newspaper. In front of them sat a couple, like themselves, giggling and muttering sweet nothings to each other. Their train was busy, overly busy, but comfortably so.

Then something akin to a light bulb going off in Aoba’s mind came to mind.

He switched on his Coil, pausing the music Noiz was listening to with a stern look. Noiz quickly turned to Aoba, demanding something of an explanation, brows more furrowed than they were before.

“What did you do that for?” he asked curtly, but with no real aggression behind his voice. He brought the headphones away from his ears, letting them rest around his neck. The bright pink was a stark contrast from the warm maroon red of his coat, and the alluring evergreen color of his eyes.  
“I… wanted to talk to you,” Aoba replied. That wasn’t it. Not entirely. He averted his gaze, peering down at his hands as he stammered. “You… you looked like you wanted to cry the entire time we walked to the train. And now you’re so quiet, I… just…”  
He flicked his gaze up, meeting Noiz’s icy cold stare with his own, golden irises.  
“I’m worried about you.”

Noiz had to hesitate for a moment. Was he really that visibly upset? Noiz never told the part where his father bellowed at him at running a background check on that “blue haired weirdo” he lugged around with him every time he visited. He was a loser from a low-income family. Why did he say that? To hurt him like he never could before, to drag a proverbial knife along his skin to make him hurt, now he could hurt?

Instead of saying any of this, Noiz merely sighed and averted his gaze. He knew that would only upset Aoba further, but that was whatever. He cared about Aoba too much to get hurt by his family’s bullshit.

“Noiz…” Aoba said, with a faint note of desperation in his tone. He reached out, grabbing Noiz’s chin between his thumb and forefinger with a slight squeeze, and steered his head back until their eyes were in the same line of sight.  
“Aoba, it’s nothing.”  
“Like hell it’s nothing, brat.”  
“Don’t call me a brat.”  
“Then don’t act like one!” His words were strong but his tone was gentle. He lifted his hand up dragging it away from his chin to cup Noiz’s cheek. Noiz mentally noted that Aoba would never do something like this in public, and lo, here they were, in public, with Aoba’s lips so close that he could just barely brush them if he leaned forward…  
“Stop pretending like you have to be so strong all the time.” Aoba’s voice brought him out of his trance. “You can rely on me too, you know? That’s what being in a relationship means.”  
“Mnn.” Noiz merely grunted in a reply. He didn’t want to feel better, though, he wanted to stew, to loathe his parents for still not being good enough for them, for refusing to listen to him, for…  
Aoba must have noticed Noiz’s thought process trailing off again, because Noiz saw Aoba’s beautiful face move closer until their lips met.

… Was he dreaming?

Was Aoba actually, _actually_ kissing him in public? Not to mention those little children beside them would stop and gawk. That wouldn’t mind Noiz, but Aoba would begin to blush and make any sort of excuse he could in broken German to their mother.

No… Aoba’s lips were certainly on his own. But why? Why…

He wanted to kiss Aoba more, to lip playfully at his thick lower lip before Aoba parted. His face was flushed red with embarrassment. Noiz saw him quickly peer around if anyone was watching. Satisfied, he leaned in again and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, much like Noiz would, before breaking apart again, moving his hand upwards to ruffle Noiz’s hair.

Grinning softly, Aoba puffed out his chest, making his tone huskier in the pettiest attempt to mimic Noiz as he could.  
“Hmm... what is it you’d say? _Fuck them. Who needs them anyway?_ ”

… Ah.  
Aoba was trying to console him by overcoming the biggest obstacle he had in their relationship: kissing his boyfriend in public. For once Aoba didn’t give a shit what the people around them thought, just as Noiz shouldn’t care what his mother and father think about his boyfriend. That’s right. Fuck them. Noiz’s intention was to never rekindle loves gone awry with them anyway, just merely stay amiable enough in a work-related relationship.

With this dawning on him, Noiz’s shoulders slackened, breathing a sigh of relief, the iciness in his gaze melting and warm, unbridled affection taking its place. His lips lifted upwards in a smile, leaning over in the tight confines of the train seats to pull Aoba into a hug.

“Thank you, Aoba,” he crooned into Aoba’s ear, gripping him a little tighter when he heard a bemused giggle from the seats beside them, and the distinct temperature of Aoba’s cheeks against his neck grow warmer. He chuckled, throaty and rough, pressing his lips against Aoba’s head. “Thank you so much. I love you.”

“Love you too, Noiz.”

  
*

From then on, Aoba delighted in the long kisses Noiz gave before returning back to his office. Instead of brushing away he smiled when he felt Noiz’s soft blond hair tickle his nose as he curled up closer to him on the bus. He would jump in surprise, but soon settle when he felt Noiz’s hands rest against his hips in the grocery store.  
Because, fuck it. They were in happy and in love, so fuck whoever had the gall to say anything.


End file.
